How (Not) to Eat Food in Class

Disclaimer: Slightly higher level of vulgarity in this post, my bad!

When I decided to write a blog based on my own awkward experiences, it's logical to assume that I was relatively confident in my having an awful lot of awkward experiences from which to draw. Here's the conversation that convinced me...

(friend opens a bag of Cheetos)

Me: "OH MY GOD Cheetos!" (side note: I really, really love Cheetos) "Have I ever told you my awkward Cheetos story??"

Friend: "No - wait. Dear GOD, do you have an awkward story about EVERYTHING?"

Me: "Yes."

No. Really. I LOVE Cheetos.

The awkward Cheetos story happened on a plane back from California. I settled into my window seat and dove right into my freshly-purchased bag of Cheetos. Then the hottest guy in the entire world sat down next to me. This never, EVER happens to me on planes. Without fail, I have spent every other flight of my entire life next to someone who is either morbidly obese or nursing their invariably loud baby. I took one look at the sexy dude whose thigh would be ever-so-slightly brushing mine for the next three hours, and hid the Cheetos under the seat.

I didn't do it because eating Cheetos is something to be ashamed of: IT ISN'T, and don't let ANYONE tell you otherwise. When I see someone eating Cheetos, I am 95% more likely to respect them as an individual. The problem is the infamous orange Cheeto dust, which my left hand was now sufficiently coated in.

I'd like to think I looked a little more charming than this guy, but let's be honest.

I didn't have a napkin, obviously, because who the fuck carries napkins with them, middle-aged suburban mothers? I didn't have anything to wipe my hand on. I sure as shit couldn't follow my ORIGINAL dust-disposal plan, which was to finish the bag, then slowly, sickeningly, lick every granule of dust from each of my fingers (and my palm, I get very excited about Cheetos and end up grabbing whole handfuls).

At this point in the story, my friend, a guy, asked, "Couldn't you have licked your fingers...like...seductively?"

I gave him A Look, to remind him who the fuck he was talking to, and he quickly back-tracked. There are very few things I am capable of doing "seductively" with a straight face, and that includes sex. It certainly includes licking up Cheeto dust. 

In the end, I spent the first hour of the flight with my hand hidden below my seat. Then I curled it up in my sweatshirt sleeve and awkwardly pushed past Hot Guy to "use the restroom." I know you're wondering, which way would an awkward person like me exit - by shoving my crotch or my butt in his face? I went with crotch, knowing full well how likely it was that I had sat in something weird earlier that day. If my picture isn't in the dictionary next to "classy," then I don't know why not.

Aw, thanks Dwight. Now I remember. 

That was a longer story than I intended, but the point is this: eating in public can be really awkward! Even eating in front of those you know can be brutal - once my dad looked at me across the breakfast table and said, mid-way through my third bowl of Lucky Charms, "Dear God, do you eat like that in public??" - but in front of near strangers, in a quiet, studious environment? It's the absolute worst.

So here are some rules about eating in class:

Don't eat Cheetos in class! I know it's hard, and that's all you really want, but THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT THE DUST! Some people might say, Why don't you grab a napkin, to which I say, Shut up, have you never heard of pants?

NO, YOU CAN NOT HAS, NATALIE.

Don't eat any kind of chips in class! Because the bag rustles and crinkles for like 30 seconds after you stick your greasy paw into it and I can't take much more of that noise. Don't eat anything that crunches or rattles, or else you'll get yelled at by your Shakespeare teacher like I did, and OH MY GOD HER EYES WILL BURN YOUR SOUL.

Don't eat sushi in class! First of all, it smells like SHIT. I'm from Seattle and I've smelled enough damn fish to last me a lifetime. Don't eat anything that forces you to get all fancy with the chopsticks, because you ARE white, you WILL drop something, and I WILL laugh at you.

Don't eat salads in class! I mean, it's not like you're gonna be able to evenly distribute the dressing within that flimsy plastic box, anyway. You're just gonna be digging around for croutons the whole time, let's not kid ourselves. And when you spill dressing on your boob, I won't be the one to uncomfortably point it out, either.

Don't eat any food that smells good in class! Because I'm fucking hungry, you asshole! I'm hungry from all this NOT EATING.

The only kind of food I'm OK with you eating in class: a burrito, because it's silent, it doesn't smell, and there is NO WAY you will successfully consume the whole thing without dropping lettuce or dripping sour cream on yourself at LEAST once. Then, I will laugh. Also, burritos are amazing, and I can't bring myself to knowingly deprive another person of that joy.

As if you needed more proof of how great burritos are.

That being said, you have my permission to shove as much burrito in your mouth as you possibly can. Just know that you will look ridiculous doing it, but as it in no way disturbs me and only contributes to my personal enjoyment...I won't say a damn thing.